Page 25 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

“A solution,” he said, making no sense at all.

“Are you finally going to see your brother?”

I peered at the detailed network of intelligence on his twin, Jaxon, along with the list. On the list, the pros, was one word, dad. On the other side was a long list of items, starting with family and safety and ending with the words swing set and sandpit. Jaxon lived a stable life on a picturesque street in San Diego, running his own construction company. The very picture of the life Zach believed he could never have, but making lists about what he did and didn’t have for Charlie was new.

“We are going to see him,” he said with determination.

I checked his expression, total focus, and confidence. “You’re what now?” The number of times that Zach had watched his twin from afar and suddenly we were going to visit. “Wait, you said ‘we’?”

“We’re going to take Charlie to him, with a note, explaining the situation because my son needs a stable home.”

“Which he has with you,” I defended, and then wrinkled my nose at the mess. “Apart from you really need to clean some of this shit up.”

“What?” He glanced around as if he couldn’t see a thing, but then after the tragedy that had led to Charlie’s mother’s death, I knew damn well Zach bore the burden of what had happened with self-destructive guilt. It didn’t matter how many times I pushed it was an accident, he had a million reasons he should have waited. Sometimes he blamed me for shooting the guards, other times he blamed himself for not thinking the whole situation through, other times he stared in the middle distance and never said a damn word even though I could see what he was thinking.

“The mess,” I said again. “This isn’t like you,” I added.

He grimaced. “Charlie is going to live with Jax.”

“That’s bullshit, Zach,” I couldn’t help but counter. “You’re his dad. You just need some help is all, and maybe a dog. Every kid needs a dog. Or a cat?”

Zach shook his head, a mixture of defiance and despair in his eyes. “I’m done with this, Kai. I’m not a dad. I don’t know how to make a real family, hell I barely date enough to make a connection, let alone start a relationship. I spent too long in the system, and Jesus, I don’t even know what a family is.”

His words cut through the air, leaving a silence thick with unspoken emotions. It was clear Zach was giving up, but his reasoning felt more like an excuse than a justification.

“Maybe you don’t have a conventional family, but you have me,” I said, and wished I’d kept my mouth shut when he sneered and shook his head.

“Yeah, like Charlie needs your fucked-up mess around him.”

“Shit, Zach?—”

“If you don’t help me, then I’ll go on my own.”

“Zach—”

“I packed some bags for him, clothes, his medical records are inside, and I wrote a letter to Jax. It’s for the best. What if I get hurt? What if I can never give this up? What if I’m not built to be the kind of dad he needs. I’m wrong inside…”

He paused, as if he was waiting for me to interrupt, but I wasn’t sure what I could say that would make a difference, so I picked up one bag and peered inside. With all of Charlie’s tiny sleep suits folded neatly, along with pacifiers, formula and diapers, it was clear this was for the long haul. Not to mention there were a couple of his soft toys, one of them was the stuffed elephant I’d bought him when I’d first gotten a shocked Zach home here.

“You’re not wrong, this is wrong,” I said.

“I have a job to do. Loose ends to tie up with Shadow Team. I can’t work with you and care for a baby. He deserves more.”

“Then don’t work with me.”

His expression shuttered then he placed a hand on my chest. “I need to.”

“Please, think about this.”

He dropped his hand, turned to the wall, his shoulders tight, then he rounded on me and shoved me back aggressively, but his eyes were bright with emotion.

“I can’t be who Charlie needs. You don’t care about anything anyway, so help me, or fuck off.”

I shoved him away and brushed myself down. It hurt that he said I didn’t care—I loved little Charlie, the baby, this tiny flicker of hope in an otherwise messed-up world. Sometimes, I imagined watching him grow up, seeing what kind of dad Zach would be, and maybe I could have been the fun uncle who showed him how to use his first gun or how to take a man down using his hands.

Okay, maybe the psychotic uncle, but hell, I could be fun too.

In what world? The one where Zach isn’t imploding, and where I actually give a shit about anything outside my obsessive need to run into danger?

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